Good morning to my Sunday Letter faithful,
This past week was a strange one for me. I traveled to and from the farm, never seemed to know what day it was, and didn’t accomplish much. Do you ever have one of those weeks?
I’m still here to talk about it, so I guess that’s a good thing!
Also, my youngest turned 26 yesterday. Seriously, I feel like life is passing at warp speed. I mean, we are already staring at Memorial Day weekend…
Summer is just around the corner.
Not Much Writing
No, I’ve not been doing much writing lately. A few lines here and there each morning. Mostly, I’ve been working in our garden. The garden tour is quickly approaching (it’s June 1), and we still have things to do. I mentioned a few weeks ago, I have gardener’s elbow from the repetitive motion / strain of pruning and weeding and digging and such. Well, that hasn’t eased. In fact, my elbow is screaming at me this morning. But I wrap my arm in an ace bandage and carry on, trying to use my left hand as much as possible. Not very wise, I’m sure.
The truth is, this time of year I’m conflicted. Morning is my favorite time to write. It’s also my favorite time to garden.
What’s a girl to do?
Right now, as we prepare for both the garden tour and hot summer days, I mostly garden. Timing is of the essence you know. Of course while I’m gardening, sometimes, okay oftentimes, I’m thinking about writing. And thinking about writing—the details, the plots and plans, can be a powerful thing.
For me, ideas often grow while digging in the soil, much like seeds sprouting.
Something I’m digging in my garden right now—Li’l Bang Starlight Tickseed Coreopsis.
Actually, I am a huge fan of any variety of coreopsis. Coreopsis is a robust bloomer all summer, a sun worshiper you might say, a plant that has no trouble tolerating full sun in the late afternoon. I remember when I was that way LOL.
This particular Starlight variety is curious. The petals looked to have been dipped-dyed in fuchsia paint. Low and mounding, it makes a perfect sunny border plant.
Isn’t it stunning?
Check this out… Our mail carrier delivers dog treats as well as bills and junk.
See? Lucy and Annabelle are waiting their turn.
Lucy (silver) is not so patient. She may be howling. Annabelle (white) is hanging back. She thinks everything is a trick. Lucy and Annabelle have typical birth order tendencies. LOL.
I absolutely love looking at old black and white family photographs. A few days ago when I was home on the farm, Momma and I sifted through a big box of Papa Creecy’s photos, a box Momma had stored away after he died.
I’d never looked through the box before, and I don’t think Momma had spent much time with these photos either.
The further down we dug, the older the photos were, much like layers of soil. We couldn’t identify some of the people in the pictures, especially the old, old ones. But the idea that these ancestors are connected to our family is meaningful to me. I look into the eyes of the womenfolk, trying to see glimpses of myself. I see flickers of familiarity in jaw lines, long noses, tall frames. I carry bits and pieces of these people inside me even though we are separated by a hundred years or more.
After spending hours with these photos, I brought a few home for a special project I’m planning for my third book (fingers crossed).
With the advent of digital photography and social media, I think we may have lost something quiet and tucked away in our society. Because we don’t often print out photographs, we will no longer store away old boxes of photographs, not like we once did, anyway. I can’t help wonder if we aren’t going to leave a hole somewhere in the ancestry continuum.
And for me, it isn’t just about the people in the photos. The subject matter provides clues to our past. The clothes and furniture and cars and crops and trees. All of it.
What Momma Said
(about a cousin)
He was almost a preacher, but he never was.
Alrighty, Sunday Letter friends. Here’s hoping for a great week ahead with no rain for my farmer friends in central & northeast Arkansas. They are drowning!
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.